


Hot Tea

by QueenofThyme



Series: Hot Tea [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dralentine's Day, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-03 21:49:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10259276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenofThyme/pseuds/QueenofThyme
Summary: Draco Malfoy is on Harry Potter’s doorstep and he really doesn’t seem like he wants to be there. What happens next involves hot tea, a date that isn’t really a date, the ugliest vase Draco has ever seen, balls, sacks and snakes, and unfortunately none of those last three are sexual in the slightest.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi,
> 
> I wrote this fic for [Dralentine's 2017](http://dralentines-day.tumblr.com/) and it was gifted to halfbloodprincess23  
> Prompts were that it must include parseltongue and a strip of photos from a photobooth.

 

“Potter,” Malfoy says coldly as if it is Harry standing unexpectedly at his door, rather than the other way around.

Shocked at the presence of Draco Malfoy, of all people, standing at his door on a dreary Sunday morning, Harry isn’t able to formulate a response. Instead, he simply stands there, processing, waiting for something to actually make sense.

“Is this how you treat all your guests?” Malfoy asks in a bored voice that tells Harry he really doesn’t want to be here, which is, at least, something that does make sense. 

“Why are you here?”

Malfoy narrows his eyes and stares at Harry with obvious distaste. “No need for your tone, Potter. I don’t want to be here, either.”

“ _My_ tone?” Harry holds back a laugh. He can see Malfoy is on edge and doesn’t fancy a wand fight on a quiet muggle street. Not failing to notice Malfoy has avoided his question, and with lack of a better option, he invites his childhood rival inside his apartment.

He immediately regrets it when the next words out of Malfoy’s mouth are: “ _This_ is where you _live?_ ” Again, Harry wonders how Malfoy can possibly think Harry is the one with a tone problem.

Harry quickly waves his wand so the worst of the mess is swept away, the many piles of clothes on the floor flying upstairs to hide in his bedroom, the dirty mugs in the living room moving to the kitchen to hide under the sink. He wasn’t expecting company.

With the apartment still in poor shape, but at least a margin better, Harry turns back to Malfoy, hoping to finally hear an explanation. Despite his frustration at Malfoy’s presence and usual pointy demeanour, he is still incredibly curious about what has brought him here. However, Malfoy doesn’t look like he is planning on explaining. If anything, he is staring at Harry as if awaiting an explanation from him. Harry sighs, wondering why he didn’t just slam the door as soon as he saw who it was. Better yet, next time someone rings the doorbell, he should check who it is through the keyhole before opening it to avoid situations like this altogether. It’s too late now though, so he does the only thing he can think of.

“Would you like some tea?”

“You’re offering me _tea?_ ” Malfoy asks as if Harry has just insulted his mother.

“…and the offer has been rescinded.” Harry is unsure if he should be laughing or hiding. He hasn’t seen Malfoy since the trials. At that time, Malfoy had been too defeated, too traumatised Harry supposes, to say much at all. He certainly seems to have regained his attitude since then.

Still, Malfoy doesn’t say anything. He is staring at Harry’s muggle clock intently.

“Got somewhere to be?” Harry asks.

Malfoy looks back at Harry, his face scrunched up. “No.” He says harshly, making Harry feel like it was a stupid question.

“Okay…” Harry says because he can’t think of any other way to respond other than cursing Malfoy, which he knows would be a terrible idea. With Malfoy still looking as if he has no intention of explaining anything and Harry having made no progress on that front, Harry shrugs and takes a seat on his sitting room couch.

“What are you doing?” Malfoy asks immediately.

“Seeing as I’ve no idea how long you plan on standing there without saying anything, I’ve decided to get comfortable while I wait.” Harry pulls his legs up onto the couch with him.

Harry can see Malfoy’s eyes follow his shoes as they come up to rest on the arm of the couch. Harry supposes it is against Malfoy family sensibilities. So becoming a Death Eater is fine, but shoes on the couch is out?

Malfoy shakes his head before redirecting his attention to Harry’s face, and Harry imagines the image of his shoes being thrown forcibly from Malfoy’s mind. He is careful not to laugh. “Were you planning on offering me a seat?” Malfoy asks, and just like everything else he has said today, it sounds like an insult.

Harry is starting to enjoy this. Behind Malfoy’s cold demeanour, he is clearly uncomfortable about something, likely the reason he is here in the first place. Harry has no such discomfort so he is able to sit back and wait to see how things will play out. He hopes there is some humiliating reason Malfoy is here that he will be able to laud over the man for the rest of his life. That would certainly make up for years of bullying.

“Considering your reaction to my generous offer of tea, I didn’t think it would go down very well.” Harry says with a bright smile he suspects will irritate Malfoy.

Malfoy rolls his eyes and breathes a deep sigh. Harry has a strange feeling he is about to be lectured. “A host should display formal etiquette regardless of the attitude of his guests.”

Harry has to stop himself from shouting _A-ha!_ “So you admit you have an attitude then?” He says instead.

Malfoy stares at him a moment silently. Does he have no comeback? Does this mean Harry has won? He closes his eyes and stays like that for another painful moment. Harry is a little unsettled and is beginning to wish Malfoy would fire back with a nasty quip already.

Finally, Malfoy opens his mouth and eyes at the same time but the words aren’t what Harry is expecting. “Where’s your kitchen?”

“What?” Harry asks surprised.

Malfoy waves his hand in an elegant imitation of the universal signal for _never mind_. “I’ll find it myself.” Harry starts to get up so he can follow Malfoy into the kitchen and find out what in Merlin’s name is going on, but Malfoy gestures for him to stop with an unnecessary flourish of his hand. “No, stay there.” He orders.

Harry stays seated and tries to remain calm. What could Malfoy possibly get up to in his kitchen? He hears a crash.

“Don’t move, I’m Reparo-ing it.” Shouts out Malfoy before Harry has a chance to come running. Harry secretly hopes it is the awful ceramic vase his Aunt Petunia made him for his birthday last year. The gift is admittedly an improvement after years of receiving old socks and toothpicks, but it doesn’t make up for the years of abuse at the hands of the Dursleys. He would feel guilty throwing it out when he knows it must have taken ages for his Aunt to create and was clearly meant as the branch to a small stunted olive tree, but seeing it only brings back bad memories of his childhood. However, if it were to be accidentally broken…Harry doubts even Reparo could fix something so precariously held together in the first place.

Malfoy returns shortly after with a single mug in his hand. Of course, the bastard wouldn’t think to make one for Harry as well. “That vase in your kitchen is appallingly hideous, Potter. I had to transfigure some flowers to put in it, just to make up for its offensive patterns.” He says as he places the mug on the small table beside Harry, before taking a seat on the armchair opposite.

Harry looks down at the mug beside him, puzzled. “You made me tea?”

Malfoy grimaces like he was hoping his good deed would go unnoticed. “Don’t be ungrateful. The appropriate response is thank you.”

“Thank you?” Harry says uncertainly. He starts to wonder if Malfoy is in serious trouble. If he is doing something even slightly nice for Harry, he must want something in return.

“You’re welcome.” Malfoy says staring at the empty fireplace behind Harry.

Harry takes a small sip of his tea. It burns his tongue. “So…”

“So?” Malfoy repeats, his attitude returning in full force.

“Malfoy,” Harry starts, skipping the pretence and asking straight out: “Why are you sitting in my apartment watching me drink tea?”

“Believe me, Potter. I don’t want to be here.” Malfoy says like it’s not obvious in the way he has been on edge since he arrived and the way he has negatively responded to everything Harry has said.

“You said that already.” Harry takes a large sip of his tea, forgetting how hot it is. He grimaces as it burns its way down his throat.

“Well, I don’t.”

Harry loses his patience. This is starting to get repetitive. “It’s not exactly great for me either.”

Malfoy appears affronted. “I made you tea.”

Harry wants to laugh but Malfoy appears quite serious. He made tea, and didn’t even manage to break that goddamn vase. He hasn’t exactly saved Harry’s life. “Oh, of course. That certainly makes up for all the unpleasantness.” Harry says sarcastically.

“You’re not making this easy.”

Harry is about to lose more than just his patience. How can Malfoy suggest he is the one being difficult all the while sitting there with that nasty scowl on his face? “ _What_ easy? I don’t even know why you’re here.” Harry says in a voice dangerously close to yelling. He hasn’t reached for his wand yet but, Merlin, he wants to.

“I need a Parselmouth.” Malfoy says quickly, the syllables coming out like they belong to one word. He is not looking at Harry.

Harry’s rising anger takes a backseat to his curiosity and excitement. He takes a small sip of tea as he surveys Malfoy, sitting on the armchair in his small apartment looking incredibly uncomfortable. Malfoy needs a Parselmouth. Malfoy needs him. This is going to be good. “Why?”

Malfoy explains the situation to Harry’s mug. “There’s a room in the Manor that has sealed itself off. Mother and I have tried every spell we can think of but nothing has worked. The door has carvings of snakes on it and I think, no, I am certain, it requires parseltongue to open.”

Harry can’t stop himself from smiling. He knows Malfoy must be hating every minute of this. “So you need my help?”

“I’d appreciate if you would be able to attend – “

“You need my help.” Harry interrupts, not letting Malfoy evade the question.

“I don’t need – “

“Malfoy. Say it. You need my help.”

A long deep sigh falls from Malfoy’s mouth and he rubs his temples as he stares at the carpet. “I’m not going to say that. Stop being childish.”

Harry is tempted to tease Malfoy further, but seeing Malfoy not even able to meet his gaze begins to get to him. He feels a little bit guilty for having taken so much glee in someone else’s discomfort, even if that person is Draco Malfoy. He takes a long sip of his tea, letting Malfoy stew for a moment longer because he really can’t help himself. “So you want me to come over now?”

“What?” Malfoy jerks his head up and finally meets Harry’s eye.

“To try out that door?” Harry explains politely, allowing Malfoy his confusion. Merlin, Harry is confused as well. He is willingly helping Draco Malfoy.

“You’re going to do it?” Malfoy asks, the shock clear in his voice. So he never expected Harry to agree but he came anyway? He must really be desperate.

“Of course. Just let me finish this tea.” Harry takes another sip. It’s still hot but he can’t burn his mouth much further.

His shock seeming to wear off, Malfoy becomes serious. “How much?”

“How much what?” Harry asks. How much tea does he have left? How much parseltongue can he speak?

Malfoy blinks a couple of times and gives Harry a look that reads _you are an idiot_. “Payment, Potter. What do you want?”

Oh. Harry feels very silly. Of course that’s what he means. “Nothing. I’m sure it won’t take long and I haven’t got any other plans.” He certainly does not need Malfoy’s money. He can not work for the rest of his life and still have enough money to pass onto his grandkids, if he ever has any that is.

“No.” Malfoy’s voice is firm.

“No?” So he doesn’t want Harry’s help anymore? What is Malfoy playing at?

“You can’t do this for free. I don’t want to owe you a favour.” Of course. That makes perfect sense. A Malfoy wouldn’t want to be in anyone else’s debt, especially not Harry Potter’s.

“I’m not going to ask you for a favour.” Harry assures him, because he isn’t one to hold something over someone. If he says he’s going to help, he’s going to help, no strings attached. Knowing Malfoy’s family, he suspects this is a new concept to the rude man on his armchair.

“You say that now because you don’t need one. When the time comes, you’ll be at my door reminding me of everything you’ve ever done for me. This won’t be another item on that list. Name a price now.” Malfoy demands, which is reckless as he is the one at Harry’s house asking for help. He really should be more agreeable. Harry could change his mind at any time.

Does Malfoy really think Harry keeps a list of every good deed he does? Like that is the only reason for doing anything good? He wonders how many lists Draco has. “I’m not keeping a list and I really don’t need any money. I’m actually very well off.” He is usually reluctant to mention his wealth in case it comes across as bragging, but considering his guest, he doesn’t really think it is of any consequence in this instance.

Malfoy snorts. “And yet you live _here_.” Harry frowns. And they had been having such a pleasant conversation. “Whatever, it doesn’t have to be money.”

Harry starts to answer immediately, his response automatic. “There’s nothing that I…” but a thought suddenly comes to his head, and he realises he has the perfect opportunity. “Wait, actually…yes, there is something.” He smiles wickedly.

Malfoy’s eyes widen and he no longer looks keen on accepting payment. “I don’t like the way you’re smiling.”

“Let me introduce you to the muggle world.” Harry says, knowing how bizarre it will sound to Malfoy and not caring. His intentions are both good-hearted and petty. He does think it will be good for Malfoy’s character to finally have a positive experience with muggles, but he also knows it will be absolutely hilarious to watch.

“What the hell, Potter?”

“You spend the day doing muggle things with me, and then we’ll go open up that room in the Manor.” Harry explains, liking the idea the more he thinks about it. This will be much better than monetary payment. Malfoy outside his comfort zone is priceless.

Malfoy is looking at Harry like he just asked if he wanted to jump into a volcano. Harry continues to smile, which seems to frazzle Malfoy further. “Since you are incapable of rational thought, I take it back. You are more than welcome to help me for nothing in return.”

“…and that offer has been rescinded.” Harry says, enjoying the way Malfoy’s frustration has had a peculiar effect on his face, his usually pale cheeks having turned the slightest shade of pink.

Malfoy stands up, looking down at Harry, his fists are clenched but he hasn’t drawn his wand. “Potter, I am not going on a _date_ with you.”

A date? Is that what it sounded like? Harry worries Malfoy may not be the only one with pink cheeks now. He hurries to clarify. “It’s not a date, Malfoy. Don’t flatter yourself.”

Malfoy’s eyes narrow. He seems suspicious. Harry supposes it is warranted under the circumstances. “Why do you want to spend the day with me?” Malfoy asks in the manner an Auror might interrogate a dark wizard.

“It’s not about _me_ spending it with you, it’s about you spending it like a muggle, to give you an understanding of the way they live, and how they’re not so different from us.” Harry explains carefully so there can be no confusion. He can’t have Malfoy thinking he wants to date him. That would be way too much fodder for his insults.

Retaking his seat, Malfoy is laughing but there doesn’t seem to be any humour in it, only disbelief. “Merlin, that’s worse. You’re trying to _save_ me. I think I’d much prefer the date.”

Harry shrugs. He isn’t backing out now. “It’s my only offer.”

“So you’re still an insufferable do-gooder then?” Malfoy asks, and despite its content, it sounds less like an insult than everything else Malfoy has said to Harry this morning.

“Yep,” Harry agrees if only to frustrate Malfoy. “And you’re still an arrogant prat?”

“Watch it.” Malfoy says, but it doesn’t have the edge to it that Harry would expect.

“So do you agree to my price?” Harry asks, already knowing exactly where he wants to take Malfoy.

“I don’t see any other option.” Concedes Malfoy.

Harry tries to stop the huge grin that is determined to cover his face. He really shouldn’t be this excited at the prospect of spending a day with Malfoy. “How do you feel about Fairs?”

Malfoy scrunches up his face in what looks to be a mixture of confusion and disgust. “I don’t know what that means, and now I’m not sure I want to.”

Harry laughs. Malfoy’s insistence at being contrary isn’t nearly as bad when the cruel edge is removed. “Actually, it doesn’t matter, because you’ve already agreed to it.”

“Potter…” Malfoy says in a way Harry is sure is intended to be threatening, but has absolutely no effect on Harry’s resolve. He is taking Draco Malfoy to the Fair.

“You never know, you might enjoy it.” Harry teases. He already knows that he at least is going to enjoy himself. He wonders if he’ll be able to convince Malfoy to ride The Giant Slide in a sack. That’s something he has to see.

“I don’t even know what it is. I swear to Merlin, Potter, I’ll – “

“You’ll what? Curse me? I defeated Voldemort, I don’t think you’ll be much of a challenge.” Harry is surprised by his own cockiness. There’s something about Malfoy that makes him want to one-up him every time.

“Your head is even bigger than it was in school, Potter. I didn’t think it was possible.” Harry can’t help but notice that Malfoy seems to be saying his name an awful lot. It’s hard to miss when it’s enunciated so carefully each time, sometimes sounding like a swear word, sometimes like a sigh, but never like a name.

“I’m kind of a big deal.” Harry says. He finds himself eagerly anticipating Malfoy’s inevitable dispute of this.

“Yes, I’ve seen the Prophet. The Boy Who Lived and Died. It made for a great front headline the first time they did it, but I’m not sure who the genius is that decided to repeat it fourteen times. There must be something else to report on by now.”

This throws Harry. “You’ve been counting.”

“That was just a guess,” is what comes out of Malfoy’s mouth, but the way he drops his gaze says otherwise. Harry doesn’t bother to confirm that it is indeed fourteen, that he has been counting too, waiting for it to end. Malfoy seems a little too keen to change the subject. “How much longer are you going to be with that tea?”

Harry lets the counting slide, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to tease Malfoy about every other possible thing. “Eager for some muggle fun?”

It could easily be his imagination, but Harry swears he sees the smallest hint of a smile beginning to form before it is quickly replaced with an exaggerated scowl, lacking in menace. “No, Potter. Must you be so infuriating? I’m eager to get this all over and done with.”

Harry takes one last long gulp, ignoring the way it still burns slightly on the way down. “Let’s go.” He sets the empty mug on the table beside him and heads towards the entrance.

Malfoy is yet to move from his seat. “You’re not going to change first?”

Harry looks down at his t-shirt and jeans and back up at Malfoy in his black robes. If anything, considering where they’re heading, Malfoy should be the one to change. “No.”

“No?” Malfoy repeats, looking horrified. “I thought those were your pyjamas.”

Harry laughs, too amused to be insulted. “First lesson: Muggles don’t wear robes.”

“So they walk around in pyjamas? What kind of – “

Harry quickly interrupts. He knew Malfoy wouldn’t have much experience with the muggle world but he didn’t think he would know absolutely nothing. How had he not run into muggles before? Had he never even noticed them or what they were wearing? “These are not pyjamas. These are jeans. I can lend you some so – “

“Please tell me you aren’t suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.” Malfoy says, like Harry has suggested they stick their hands into a tank full of Grindylows.

“I’m only offering because if muggles see you in that, they might –“

“I don’t care what muggles think of me, Potter. I am not wearing the rags you pass off as clothing.”

Harry doesn’t bother arguing. For Malfoy to stick out like a sore thumb will be much more entertaining anyway. “Suit yourself. Shall we go then?” Harry opens the door and gestures for Malfoy to leave first.

Malfoy gets up slowly from the couch, as if everything is too much of a challenge for him. He is being really quite dramatic, and Harry can’t help but enjoy it. “You should put up better wards around your apartment.” Malfoy remarks as he makes his exit.

Harry ignores this, and follows Malfoy out down his porch steps. When he reaches the curb, Malfoy grips Harry’s forearm tightly with a sour expression. “What are you doing?” Harry asks.

“I’m getting ready for side-apparation because I don’t trust I won’t splinch myself with directions from you.”

Harry stares at Malfoy’s hand wrapped around his arm for a moment. His grip is so tight it’s starting to hurt. “Muggles don’t apparate.” He says to Malfoy’s hand.

Malfoy’s hand releases him instantly. “Then how are we going to get anywhere? I don’t suppose muggles use brooms either.”

“You still ride?” Harry asks automatically, the mention of brooms reminding him of their time on rival Quidditch teams, before house sports began to seem so trivial. Despite buying his way onto the Slytherin team, Malfoy had always been a good flyer.

“Of course.” Malfoy says with a non-committal shrug.

Harry gets the feeling that talking about something as basic as flying is even too personal for Malfoy. He quickly answers Malfoy’s original question. “We can walk. The local school is having a Fair this weekend so it’s not far.”

“I still don’t know what that means.”

Harry begins to walk and Malfoy falls into step beside him. “I can’t think of anything in the Wizarding world to relate it to.”

Malfoy makes a small huffing sound. “Then just describe it as it is. I don’t need a magical point of reference for everything.” He says, sounding irritated. Harry makes a mental note to try not to underestimate Malfoy’s intelligence again, at least not aloud.

“Well, it’s a mix of things. There’s a market of stalls with bake sales and homemade jewellery and usually a second hand book stand. There are rides. You know, like a giant slide and a merry go round. There are also games. Like when you have to throw balls into a clown’s mouth as it is moving side to – “

“Hold on,” Malfoy says raising a hand delicately which draws Harry’s eye. “I think I actually might need a reference for that last one. You throw balls into someone’s mouth?”

Harry realises it does sound a little strange when put like that. “It’s not a real clown. It’s mechanical.”

From the look of Malfoy’s face, Harry knows his clarification hasn’t helped in the slightest. “You throw balls into a machine that looks like a human mouth for fun?” Malfoy exclaims, his voice weighed down with heavy disbelief.

“And to win prizes?” Harry adds weakly, not knowing how else to explain such a weird game. In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t the best example to bring up.

Malfoy stretches his mouth out wide in a way that might look like a smile on anyone else but on him looks more like an upside down frown. “In that case, sign me up.”

“See, I told you that you might enjoy it.”

Malfoy drops the almost smile for an actual frown and laughs. Harry can’t recall seeing anyone laughing while frowning before. “That was sarcasm, Potter.”

“You won’t be laughing when I get more balls in than you.” Says Harry before wondering if he’s accidentally stumbled into obscure sexual innuendo territory. He turns away from Malfoy to look straight ahead again, his face scrunching up as he tries to think about what he’s just said.

Malfoy is laughing again, and Harry has to peek via his peripheral vision to see if the frown is still there. No, Malfoy is smiling. Yes, there’s an element of a smirk in there too but it’s definitely a smile, a big smirking Malfoy smile. “Yes, I will be. I’ll be watching you shove balls down a machine clown’s mouth as it moves side to side, and I will be laughing at how ridiculous you look. “

Harry feels the need to defend himself and the awful carnival game, if only to prolong a pleasant conversation with Malfoy. “You have to time it right so that you get the most points. You don’t just shove them down indiscriminately.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

Harry is pleased to have reached a place with Malfoy devoid of nastiness. There is a part of him that always enjoyed sparring with Malfoy, and now they seem to be doing a similar thing but with humour rather than anger, with laugher rather than hexes. It’s unexpected but welcome. So of course Harry has to go and stuff it up.

“How’s your mother doing?” He asks.

Malfoy’s face changes in an instant, a cold plaster covering any traces of a smile. “Don’t.”

Harry wishes he could take the question back and say something light-hearted instead. He will stretch out a conversation about clowns and balls forever if he is only given the chance to take that question back.

“I may have agreed to go on a…an outing with you, but I didn’t agree to this.”

“A conversation?” Harry hedges, deciding to act clueless, even though he knows he has stepped over a very obvious, thick line.

Malfoy sighs irritably and explains in a tired voice. “A _personal_ conversation. You don’t get to ask me about my mother. You hardly know us.”

Harry doesn’t think that’s fair. Of course he knows Malfoy. “Your mother, I guess, but you, we went to school together for six years.” He says, no longer having to act clueless. How could Malfoy think he hardly knows him?

Malfoy laughs again but it’s nothing like the one earlier. His face is twisted cruelly and the sound is harsh and breathy. “If you think you know me after that, then you must think very little of me, Potter.” Beneath the edge of Malfoy’s words, Harry senses something almost like sadness? Disappointment? Self-pity?

“That’s not true.” Harry says. There was a time when he thought Malfoy was nothing more than a bully, but as he got older, he understood things a little more clearly. He had seen glimpses of what Malfoy’s home, what his childhood, might’ve been like and it was terrifying. There is no excuse for any of the horrible things Malfoy has done and said over the years, but Harry no longer judges him as harshly for it. Now, seeing those small parts of Malfoy that he’d never seen before – friendly laughter, open vulnerability, a pleasant (if short-lived) conversation – his opinion of Malfoy is growing again.

“Then you’re delusional.” Malfoy says. “Do you recall me ever saying anything that wasn’t an insult to you?”

“Who you are is in your actions, not words.” Harry says quickly to disguise the fact that Malfoy is probably right. He can’t recall a single interaction throughout their school year which didn’t involve an insult, or a hex, or both.

“What, like how I became a Death Eater?” Malfoy counters instantly, his voice is cutting. Harry realises he probably should have chosen his words a little more carefully. A lot of Malfoy’s actions are questionable as well now that he thinks about it.

Harry takes a moment before responding, trying to find words that might actually be comforting this time. He realises the absurdity of the situation – he is trying to comfort and convince Draco Malfoy, his sworn enemy since the age of eleven, that he’s not a bad person. “I don’t believe you had a choice in that.” Harry finally says truthfully.

“You always have a choice.” Malfoy says in a quiet voice. Harry wonders if Malfoy is only repeating what many people have told him before in judgement or if he actually believes it. It’s a line Harry has heard himself a million times but he has never bought it. It implies all choices are equal, that there’s a black and white to every problem, and there isn’t. Harry knows that better than most.

Harry doesn’t think explaining this to Malfoy will help so he sticks to the clichés. “Sometimes it’s an impossible choice.”

Malfoy nods and Harry thinks his words may have finally gotten through, until Malfoy looks over at him with a hard face. “You can forgive me if you wish, Potter, but you can’t make me forgive myself.”

Harry isn’t quite sure what to say to that. He supposes Malfoy is right, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to try and help. He wants to see Malfoy smile again, a real smile, so he tries to lighten up the conversation. “You also said we weren’t going to have a personal conversation but look where we are.”

Malfoy looks away immediately, and Harry knows before he even says anything, that he misjudged the situation, that that was not the right thing to say. Malfoy’s voice is cold when he replies, “Don’t worry Potter, it won’t happen again.”

They continue to walk in silence. Harry wishes he could take the joke back and say something serious instead. Malfoy was opening up to him, in a completely unexpected way, revealing so much more than Harry ever thought he’d get to see from _Draco Malfoy_. Then Harry had to go and stuff up another conversation.

Harry looks over at Malfoy. He must know Harry’s gaze is on him but he keeps looking straight ahead. Harry looks down at his own feet. He is confused, not just by Malfoy’s behaviour, but by his reaction to it. He is worried about Malfoy and desperate to comfort him, and these thoughts aren’t just ruled by his typical “do-gooder” attitude but by something else as well. He stopped hating Malfoy a long time ago but he never thought that he would ever start to like him.

The silence stretches on uncomfortably. Harry is thankful when they finally reach the school and entrance to the Fair. He fishes out his wallet to pay the entrance fee with some muggle money. He wants to break the awful silence with Malfoy and hopes enough time has passed for him to have cooled down. He is ready to make a comment on how it looks like it might rain, but luckily Malfoy saves him from having to talk about the weather.

“You’re paying for me? Merlin, this really is a date.” Malfoy says with disgust, eyeing the muggle change Harry tucks into his wallet as they continue into the Fair.

Relieved that they are back on speaking terms, even if it is with a scathing comment, Harry can’t resist smiling as he rolls his eyes. “Relax, Malfoy. It’s just money.”

“Relax?” Malfoy repeats, looking panicked now, “How can I relax? I can hear people screaming.”

Harry laughs. Familiar with the noise, he can assume it is coming from people on the various rides set up over the school’s vast oval. “It’s just people enjoying themselves.”

This doesn’t seem to comfort Malfoy at all, in fact he looks even more concerned. “I feel like it would be wise to point out to you now, Potter, that I, like most normal people, do not scream out of enjoyment. If you hear me screaming, please assume I am in pain or serious danger and respond accordingly.” He says seriously.

“Never fear, I will always rush to your side to rescue you.” Harry responds with exaggerated sincerity, not willing to miss an opportunity to tease Malfoy. It has the desired effect.

Malfoy is rattled. He folds his arms across his chest. “That’s not what I meant. I don’t need your rescuing.”

Harry shrugs, perfectly innocently, not daring to comment on that. Sure, he could bring up a few choice times when Malfoy certainly did need his rescuing, but that might be pushing his luck.

Unfortunately Malfoy is not fooled by the shrug. “You do keep lists.”

“I don’t. Although, _maybe_ , I was thinking of a _few_ times I may have saved – “

“A _few?_ ” repeats Malfoy, his voice rising.

“But I haven’t thought about that in a long time.” Harry says truthfully as he halts at the bottom of The Giant Slide he has successfully guided Malfoy to. “Look, I promise I will never use those times against you, except to tease you relentlessly. I saved you because I wanted to, not because I wanted something out of it.”

He’s not sure if Malfoy believes him or not but for now it doesn’t matter, because his number one priority is getting Malfoy onto The Giant Slide which he figures will be another argument. “Now will you please grab a sack and follow me?”

Malfoy finally notices the stack of hessian sacks at the foot of a long set of stairs. He picks up a sack with two fingers and holds it up away from his body, looking it over carefully. He drops it and looks at Harry. “I am not getting in a sack.”

Harry is thankful Malfoy has decided to challenge just the sack and not the ride altogether. He suspects the sack issue will be a losing argument for him, so he has an idea, an evil idea.

“That’s alright, just go down without one.” Harry says with a shrug, careful not to look too happy about it.

Malfoy frowns, unconvinced. “Is that allowed?”

“Yea, of course, the sacks are really for the children anyway.” Harry says casually, even as he picks up a sack for himself. Luckily, it seems to be enough for Malfoy who begins to follow Harry up the stairs, although he doesn’t look particularly happy about it.

Harry half-expects Malfoy to back-out when they get to the top of the slide but once they finally reach it, Malfoy looks excited, which makes what Harry knows is going to happen next so much funnier. The slide has ten lanes so they easily set up next to each other. Harry sits down inside his sack, making sure the lower half of his body is fully enveloped. After a hesitation, which Harry is sure is due to concern for dirtying his robes, Malfoy takes his place beside Harry, sackless. Harry’s mouth is twitching as he tries to stop himself from grinning.

They take off at the same time, Malfoy beside Harry early on but falling behind quickly. Harry slides down easily, his ride smooth, even over the three bumps in the track. When he reaches the bottom, Malfoy is not with him. Harry stands up, moves out of the way and looks back up at the slide.

Just like Harry knew he would be, Malfoy is stuck at the first bump, unmoving. He is looking around at everyone sliding down around him, confused. Harry can see the exact moment he realises everyone else, including adults, are using sacks too because his eyes get wide and his face goes pink.

Without a sack, the friction of Malfoy’s clothes prevents him from gliding smoothly along the track. Harry watches as Malfoy awkwardly shuffles and shimmies himself over the first bump. He looks so foolish. When Malfoy gets to the second bump and the same thing happens, tears begin to form in Harry’s eyes. He can’t help it. Malfoy’s irritated, embarrassed, haughty face is hilarious, and the way he has to wiggle himself down is so undignified and so un-Malfoy-like. At the third bump, Harry is on his knees, openly crying with laughter. He wishes he brought a camera because he wants to relive this moment for the rest of his life. But even without photographic support, Harry doesn’t think he will ever forget what will now and forever be known as The WiggleTM.

Malfoy finally reaches the bottom of the slide, his face redder than Harry’s ever seen it, but he’s not sure how much is from embarrassment and how much is from anger. Malfoy rises to his feet gracefully which makes Harry laugh even harder because it’s so typical of Malfoy, and so unlike the way he was squirming only seconds earlier.

Malfoy strides past Harry where he still sits on the ground with one hand raised. “Don’t even talk to me.”

Harry quickly gets up and follows Malfoy who seems to be trying to gain as much distance between himself and The Giant Slide as possible. “You’re the one who didn’t want a sack.” Harry calls after him, still not completely finished laughing.

Malfoy whips around, wand already drawn and steps in close to Harry, his wand jabbing Harry’s neck. “You knew that would happen.” He accuses angrily.

“No idea.” Harry says with another innocent shrug, all the while smiling brightly. He isn’t concerned by Malfoy’s wand.

Malfoy closes his eyes and it’s funny because that paired with how close he is standing to Harry makes it look like he is preparing to kiss him. Harry shakes the thought from his mind when it doesn’t immediately repulse him. “I could curse that smile right off your face.” Malfoy says instead of kissing Harry, his eyes reopening.

Harry raises his eyebrows. “But you won’t.” He challenges.

“You think I wouldn’t do it in front of all these muggles?” Malfoy asks with a scowl, which may have been threatening if the grip on his wand hadn’t already loosened, it now only tickling Harry’s neck.

“No,” Harry says, “I just don’t think you’d hurt me.”

Malfoy’s face twitches and scrunches as he decides his approach. He settles on: “Remember when I broke your nose?”

Of course Harry remembers all too well when Malfoy stepped on his face and left him on the Hogwarts Express at the start of sixth year. It goddamn hurt. But that was then. That was a different Draco Malfoy. Like the current Draco _You can’t make me forgive myself_ Malfoy is going to hurt him over a joke. “Yes.”

Malfoy stares at Potter frowning for another beat before dropping his wand and stepping back. “Damn you.” He says to the grass.

Harry feels a little guilty after Malfoy’s reaction, but not nearly enough to regret making Malfoy wiggle down that slide. For as long as Harry James Potter shall live, he will never forget The WiggleTM. “I’m sorry for tricking you, but you have to admit that was hilarious.” He says, not really committing to a full apology.

Malfoy shrugs, his eyes still facing the ground. “I didn’t know you had it in you.” He says and there’s almost a compliment buried in that insult.

“You’re the one who never turned up to our duel in first year.” Harry counters.

Malfoy’s head jerks up and he is clearly ready to dispute the facts on first year, but his eyes dart to something behind Harry and widen. “No way.”

“What?” Harry turns around to work out what Malfoy is staring at and laughs. Harry is prepared this time to stretch out a conversation about clowns and balls for as long as humanly possible.

Malfoy is slowly approaching the clown game with a look of fascination on his face so intense, Harry finds it hard to believe the same person was scowling and threatening to curse him only moments earlier. “This is even more ridiculous than how you described it. The way they move. Is this another joke? Did you set this up? Muggles don’t really play this, do they?” Malfoy turns to Harry in disbelief, searching for answers.

Harry would love to say he did set it up, that no one actually seriously came up with a game that involved clowns with wide open mouths moving from side to goddamn side, but he can’t because some strange troubled person did do that, and it is a real goddamn game.

Harry sees the attendant is just setting up for another game and heads forward, pulling out his wallet. He turns back to Malfoy. “So are you going to play, or are you going to stand there and laugh at me?”

The shock at seeing the clowns seems to have worn down Malfoy’s tension and he even looks like he could smile. “You think I can’t do both?”

Once Harry has paid for the two of them, they each take position in front of equally scary looking clowns. Their five challengers are three teenagers and a young girl with her mum. Harry tries to quickly explain the rules to Malfoy to give him a fair chance, but he waves him off, and appears to study the location of the varying points in his own clown’s lap.

The game begins and the balls fall out. Harry’s hands are around two instantly, using his lightning fast reflexes to his advantage. He drops the first ball into his clown’s mouth quickly and mentally times how long it takes to enter the next field of play. Once satisfied with this, he is able to time each drop perfectly for the most points. With his fast start, and flawless method, he’s pretty sure no one has a chance of beating him.

“Potter, slow down,” whispers Malfoy beside him.

“Why? I’m winning.”

“Let one of the kids win,” Malfoy urges.

“Oh, right.” Harry is embarrassed to have not even thought of that. He was so caught up in winning he hadn’t even spared a thought for the fact they are adults versing children. He immediately slows his speed and times his balls so they fall into the smallest point bracket. The game becomes boring. He glances over to Malfoy to see how he’s going and frowns. Malfoy is not slow at all, and what’s more, his balls are all scoring the highest points. It takes a moment for the realisation to hit him.

“Malfoy, you cheater!” He yells, beginning to speed up his pace again, but knowing it is hopeless. He’s already wasted too much time. Malfoy only shrugs and keeps feeding his balls into the clown’s mouth. Harry should have known not to trust a Slytherin to play fairly.

When the game ends, and Malfoy’s station lights up confirming him as the winner, Harry coughs, “Dirty cheat,” a little unsubtly. Malfoy rolls his eyes, unfazed.

Harry isn’t surprised when Malfoy picks the large stuffed unicorn as his prize. It’s the only magical animal on display. He is surprised, however, when Malfoy immediately turns and approaches the young girl and her mum, the former looking very put out at losing the game. He presents the unicorn to the young girl.

“Would you mind awfully looking after this unicorn for me? I don’t have the time myself but I can tell you’d take great care of him. His name’s Harry.”

The young girl looks delighted and eagerly grabs the unicorn. Harry stands there stunned. Is this some sort of act? What could Malfoy possibly have to gain from this?

Malfoy returns to Harry and mutters irritably. “She was never going to win. She wasn’t even looking where the balls would roll to get the most points. She was just wasting them. It was pathetic.”

“Pathetic?” Harry repeats, smiling, not believing any of Malfoy’s irritation.

“Yes.” Says Malfoy, daring Harry to challenge him. He almost does too, but he realises arguing about it won’t change the facts: Malfoy doesn’t want to admit to a good deed, doesn’t want to validate the notion he has any good within him, so he covers it up with a snide comment and harsh tone. Harry wonders how long he has been doing just that, to justify any actions that fell outside his parents’ expectations of him. Harry is reminded of the hot tea Malfoy made for him earlier.

“What’s that?” Malfoy asks, bringing Harry back to the present.

Harry follows Malfoy’s pointed finger and watches as a giggling couple exit from a small booth. “A photo booth,” he answers.

Malfoy stares at him, clearly waiting for more information. “And..?” He prompts.

“It’s just a booth where you take photos. It’s not that exciting.” Harry explains. He wonders if he can somehow convince Malfoy to get on one of the more thrilling rides in the Fair. He suspects someone like Malfoy isn’t going to enjoy spinning upside down but Harry would certainly enjoy watching.

Malfoy narrows his eyes and it’s clear he has taken Harry’s dismissal of the photo booth as a challenge, although Harry has no idea what he’s trying to prove with it. “If you’re going to show me the muggle world, I expect to see all the dark and dirty as well. Don’t just show me a fairy tale.”

Harry laughs because it’s hard to think of a photo booth as dark and dirty and…oh wait, no, he can think about it like that now. Thanks Malfoy. “The clowns were kind of dark.” Harry reasons, and dirty if he really thinks about it, but that’s not a conversation he ever wants to have.

From the way Malfoy smirks, he is likely thinking the same thing. Thankfully he does not address it. “I’m not going to argue with that.” He says which luckily can’t be construed as dark or dirty. Although it is strange since Harry never thought he’d see Malfoy pass up an opportunity to argue with him.

“And a photo booth isn’t really dark and dirty. It’s just a photo booth.” Harry continues, ignoring his thoughts from earlier that have the power to contradict this.

Malfoy raises his eyes brows and makes an elegant sweeping gesture with his hands. Harry is reminded of The WiggleTM and has to stifle a giggle. “Then show me just a photo booth.” Malfoy says.

Harry shrugs. Photo booths are really only for children and couples or for getting your passport photo taken, but Malfoy doesn’t seem to know this. Harry worries if he mentions it, it might make Malfoy concerned they are on a date again.

They shuffle into the booth which is painfully small for two people. Harry’s whole left side is pressed up against Malfoy’s uncomfortably. He wants to jump out and run, run away from Malfoy. He can’t really understand why since it was his idea to take Malfoy out in the first place, but he suddenly feels overwhelmed. His head feels a little fuzzy and his left arm is tingling and he has no idea what in Merlin’s name is going on. He takes a breath and focuses on feeding muggle money into the machine.

“How does it work?” Malfoy asks curiously, he is so close Harry can feel the breath on his face. It’s too much.

“Once I press this,” Harry gestures to the large button between them, “There’s a timer and then it will take a few photos one after another.”

Looking over the choices for photo frames, Harry notices there are a lot of lovey-dovey frames. He hovers over one that is listed as “Limited Edition” and reads the cursive text in the corner: Happy Valentine’s Day 1999. He freezes, he had no idea that was today. He hopes Malfoy doesn’t see it because then he’d really be suspicious of this being a date, and it’s not. It’s definitely not a date.

Malfoy leans forwards and slams down the button, consequently locking in the Valentine’s Day frame Harry has been hovering over. Merlin. Harry starts to panic. What happens when Malfoy sees the frame? Will he freak out?

“So what do we do now?” Malfoy asks, looking at Harry expectantly.

“Smile at the camera.” Harry says casually trying to stay calm. He didn’t even pick the frame willingly. It was Malfoy’s fault. But when the photos print out there are going to be big stupid red hearts all around their faces. It’s not going to matter whose fault it is. It’s going to be weird.

Malfoy appears oblivious to Harry’s panic. “There better be a flash. The lighting in here is terrible. Do muggle cameras have flashes?” He says in his usual critical fashion.

Harry turns to Malfoy to counter this and explain muggle cameras are actually far more advanced than those of wizards, but the words disappear when he sees the large smile on Malfoy’s face as he looks ahead into the camera. It is clearly a fake smile, perfect for cheesy photo booth photos, but there’s something charming about it that catches Harry off guard. Even knowing it is fake, he has a strange desire for Malfoy to look at him with that smile. He is still staring at Malfoy when he hears the first click. Harry quickly turns his head to face the camera as well but he knows he is too late. He is no longer concerned about the Valentine’s Day frame and much more concerned about how the first image will turn out.

Harry doesn’t even notice when the flashes stop. Malfoy nudges him back to life and he exits the booth lightning fast. He stands in front of the dispensary box, waiting for photos to print, knowing he has to grab them first to stop Malfoy from seeing that first photo. If Malfoy sees Harry staring at him like that, it is all over. Malfoy will leave, although why that prospect is so terrible, isn’t something even Harry fully understands yet.

After a painfully slow minute, a small strip of photos fall from the dispensary box. Harry is quick to pick it up before Malfoy can even react. He rips off the top most photo and stuffs it in his jeans pocket before giving the remainder to Malfoy without even glancing at them. Unfortunately his actions don’t go unnoticed.

Malfoy is frowning, clearly suspicious. “What was that? Why did you get rid of one?”

Harry shrugs but he is sure it is a meaningless gesture when he feels the heat at his cheeks. “It was a bad angle for me.” He says, unconvincingly.

“A bad angle?” Malfoy repeats sceptically as he takes a look at the photos within his hands. “Hey, why aren’t these moving?” He asks, and Harry is thanking all the magical gods in the sky for the distraction.

“Muggle photos don’t move.” Harry explains, hoping the previous conversation will not be revisited, that Malfoy will forget about the traitorous photo in his pocket.

Malfoy nods slowly, looking as if he is processing this new fact. He is still staring at the photo strip in his hand. “So we’re frozen like this forever?’

Harry looks down at the rest of the photo strip for the first time. He can’t really make out the images in Malfoy’s hand from a distance but he can see a lot of red. Merlin. He’d forgotten about the frame. He is surprised Malfoy hasn’t mentioned it yet. “They’re just photos,” he says, and it’s just a silly frame, it doesn’t mean anything.

“Brilliant.” Malfoy whispers.

Harry is taken aback. Even with the images staying still and the sappy Valentine’s Day frame, Malfoy thinks they’re brilliant? “Excuse Me? Did you just compliment something muggle?”

“No, Potter, don’t be absurd, you must be hearing things.” Says Malfoy roughly, but Harry isn’t fooled. It was only a whisper but he heard it loud and clear. _Brilliant._ “Are we done with this now? I believe I’ve been adequately acquainted with the muggle lifestyle. Will you hold up your end and open up the Manor room?”

Harry knows he can’t be unreasonable and force Malfoy to stay with him for too long but he is isn’t quite ready to let go just yet. He expected to enjoy himself on this outing, but he is a little worried by just how he is enjoying it. There should be much more laughing at Malfoy and much less staring at his charming smile in a small enclosed space. Despite his worry, he isn’t giving up so easy.

“Okay, but first, aren’t you hungry?” Harry asks, thinking this is a perfectly innocent reason to spend just that extra moment of time longer today.

“Not particularly.” Malfoy responds, ruining it.

Harry’s mind is already set so he ignores Malfoy. “Well, I’m starving.” He says, despite only feeling slightly peckish.

Malfoy rolls his eyes, but let’s Harry lead him to a food stand. He lets Harry purchase two lots of candy floss. He lets Harry lead him to a cluster of differently shaped tables, clearly pulled from various classrooms of the school. When they sit down across from each other, Harry starts to hands over one of the candy floss sticks but Malfoy rebukes him.

“I am not touching that.” He declares, his face scrunching up in disgust.

“Then why’d you let me buy two?” Harry asks.

Malfoy mimics Harry’s perfectly innocent shrug from earlier with a smirk on his face. Harry looks at the two giant sticks of candy floss in his hands. Well, he’s not keen on wastage so he’s certainly going to try it. He rips some fluff from one with his teeth carefully, trying not to look at Malfoy’s reaction. He’s sure he looks ridiculous.

There is silence as Harry makes solid progress through a third of the candy floss in his left hand. He starts to feel a bit sick already. It really is very sweet.

Malfoy is staring at him with a bored expression, his head supported by his hand as he leans on the table. “This seems a lot like a date.” So he did notice the Valentine’s Day frames then.

“It’s not.” Harry says defensively between fluff.

Malfoy’s eyes watch as a patch of the candy floss falls to the floor. “Well, there won’t be another one.” He says.

“Unless you need my help again.” Harry counters, before realising the implication of his words – that it is a date, and that he’d ask for one again if Malfoy wished to swap favours once more. He hopes Malfoy does not pick up on it.

Thankfully he doesn’t or at least he doesn’t comment on it. “I’m still waiting to see how useful you actually are.” Malfoy says instead, the hint of a challenge in his voice.

Harry is happy to accept. “You doubt my abilities.”

“I heard a rumour you couldn’t speak parseltongue anymore.” Malfoy accuses and maybe it is in Harry’s imagination but there is a playful element to his tone.

“And yet you still came to me.” Harry is pleased to note.

Malfoy’s face twitches, clearly not as pleased with that observation. “There’s no one else.”

“There must be some pureblood relative who inherited – “

“None of our relatives want anything to do with me.” Malfoy says in that bored voice again, which makes it impossible for Harry to know if Malfoy sees it as a good or a bad thing.

“Right.” Harry says. He is now halfway through his the first lot of candy floss. He’s not sure if he can even finish one. It’s too sweet. Much too sweet. Would it be obvious if he were to accidentally drop one of them…or both of them?

“If you tell me after all this you can’t speak parseltongue…” Malfoy starts to warn, but trails off. He obviously realises threatening to curse Harry won’t hold much weight any more.

“Relax. I can speak it, I’m just a little rusty.” Harry says. He is letting his grip on the candy floss sticks loosen slowly. He wants it to look natural when they drop.

“How rusty?” Malfoy asks, his bored voice replaced with alarm.

“I can open a door.” Harry assures. If he could open the Chamber of Secrets as a twelve year old, he can open a boring old house door as an adult.

Malfoy doesn’t look convinced which is rather insulting in itself. “It’s not just any door. He set it up when he was living at the Manor.” Malfoy looks down at the table, appearing very small all of a sudden.

Harry doesn’t need an explanation to know who Malfoy is referring to. “Right.”

“I should have taken you there first, now if you can’t open it, I’ll have wasted an entire day with you.” Malfoy says to the table.

“If I had opened it first, you wouldn’t have done this, but you know I’ll follow through on my word.” Harry is waiting for Malfoy to look up so he can accidentally drop the candy floss. Otherwise Malfoy will assume he dropped them on purpose. He already has the perfect distraught face planned for when they fall.

“I’ll know you’ll try. I don’t know if it will work.”

“I can do it.” Harry assures.

“You better be as good as you think you are.”

Malfoy looks up at him and Harry suspects this might be his only chance to dispose of the sickly sweet floss. Before he has to enact his dramatic plan, he feels a heavy raindrop on his shoulder and then several drops all over his body. The rain picks up fast and Harry knows he will be drenched in seconds…which means so will this stupid candy floss and he will be able to dispose of it no questions asked. Yes! But when he looks at the candy floss in his hands, it is still completely dry. He looks up and finds that across from him, Malfoy is completely dry as well. Damn. Was he too obvious?

“So your reflexes were fast enough to cast a non-verbal impervious charm over both yourself and my candy floss but not me personally?”

“Something like that.” Malfoy is smirking. “Here.” He lifts his wand and vanishes all of the candy floss. Thank Merlin for that. Harry briefly worries about the magic being performed in front of muggles but then realises the rain is probably too heavy for anyone to see clearly. His glasses have already become more of a hindrance to his sight than anything else, so he doesn’t’ even realise that Malfoy has moved to his side until a hand grabs gold of his upper arm. Harry closes his eyes as the world begins to spin.

When the apparation ends and Harry is standing on flat ground, he opens his eyes, but he still can’t see anything. He shivers and then feels a warm pressure envelope him and spit him out. He blinks. His glasses are no longer covered in water and he is no longer wet. Malfoy must have charmed him dry. He is just thinking how considerate that is when Malfoy’s voice interrupts his thoughts.

“I don’t want you dripping on the carpet.”

So maybe not so considerate.

It is then that Harry realises where he is, Malfoy Manor, and they are already inside. At first it surprises Harry but then he realises that of course such a grand Wizarding house would have an apparation parlour. Looking around, he doesn’t recall ever seeing this room. It’s strange because this house has featured in several of his nightmares, so much so that he thought he knew it back to front. The unfamiliarity around him makes him realise the house from his dreams is not really Malfoy Manor at all.

“It’s up here,” calls out Malfoy’s voice. Harry hadn’t even noticed that Malfoy had left the room. He follows Malfoy’s voice up a grand staircase and along an unnaturally long corridor.

When he reaches Malfoy, they stand in front of an ordinary looking door, or at least it seems that way at first, but when Harry looks closer, he can see the small snakes running around every edge, unmoving, but not quite still at the same time.

“What room is this?” Harry asks, wondering what would need to be so heavily guarded.

“It’s the bedroom Voldemort took over when he moved in.” Harry can tell it takes a lot for Malfoy to say the name. Malfoy spits it out with disgust, but not like the way he says Harry’s name, not at all, but like he can’t bear to say it, like it is caught in his throat and he has no choice but to cough it out or face choking on it.

Harry feels a shiver run up his spine. He really hopes that Voldemort hasn’t left anything behind in this room. He kneels down and leans in close to the door, his eyes trained on a single snake near the handle. He takes a breath and focuses on speaking directly to the snake. When he asks the snake to open the door, a weak hiss escapes his mouth and he already knows it is not enough.

He can see Malfoy’s body tighten in his peripheral vision. “I forgot how creepy that is.” Malfoy says in a quiet voice. Harry thinks about all the times Malfoy must have heard Voldemort speak parseltongue, and he feels repulsed with himself. He hates sharing things with Voldemort. Even with the horcrux gone from his body, Harry can’t help but feel like a bit of Voldemort lives on in him.

Harry shakes the distraction from his head and tries to refocus. He stares at the snake and pictures it as a living, breathing animal. He asks it to open for him with a harsh breathy hiss. He tries not to notice Malfoy’s clenched fists at his eye level and closes his eyes in shame.

“You did it.”

The door opens, and Harry’s first thought is one of relief that he doesn’t have to use parseltongue in front of Malfoy ever again. His next is fear, and after that curiosity. He gets to his feet and moves to walk in. A hand stops him.

“I’ll walk you out.” Malfoy says more as a demand than a suggestion.

Harry shakes himself from Malfoy’s grip and walks in anyway. It may be Malfoy’s house, but he is the one who opened the door, and there is no way he isn’t going to see what is left inside.

The room is not what he expects. It looks like an average bedroom, not one belonging to the darkest wizard of all time. There are even Quidditch posters on the walls and a racing broom hung up over a desk scattered with piles of books and parchment. The only thing that makes sense is the heavy decaying scent like Voldemort was here only moments ago.

Malfoy has followed him in and is now trying to drag him out, tugging on Harry’s arm. “Potter, it is rude to overstay your welcome. I held up my end of deal and you’ve done your bit so now if you could please – “

“This is your room.” Harry realises. Malfoy stops tugging.

There is a silence that follows this. Harry doesn’t need confirmation. He already knows he is right. It horrifies Harry to think a teenager’s bedroom could become host to Voldemort. That somewhere so personal could become tainted by a horrifying evil. There is a bright flash of lightning outside that seeps through the window and lightens up the room, but just for a moment.

“It was once. Not anymore.” Malfoy finally says. He is looking around the room like he’s never seen it before.

“Why did – “

“Because he _could_. He had his pick of any of our guestrooms but still he made my parents kick me out of my room for him. He’d already taken everything else, why not?” Malfoy’s voice is uneven.

“I’m sorry.”

Malfoy sighs. “Please don’t pity me.”

“Sorry.” Harry says automatically which earns him a death stare from Malfoy. Whoops. “Not sorry?”

The loud thunder finally hits, roaring through the room. At the same time Malfoy flinches, Harry instinctively pulls his wand from his jean pocket, not noticing the small piece of ripped paper that follows and floats to the floor. Realising it is only thunder, Harry sheepishly returns his wand to his pocket. “Look at us, jumping at thunder, like we’ve been through a war or something.” He jokes.

Malfoy stares at him. “That is not funny, Potter.”

“No, it’s not.” Harry agrees.

It is then that Harry notices the paper on the ground at his feet at the same time Malfoy does. They lock eyes, frozen for a second, and then Harry lunges for it as Malfoy calmly says “Accio.”

Harry watches in horror as the small piece of paper flies into Malfoy’s hand, and he watches in horror as Malfoy looks down at the photo, the stupid photo surrounded by stupid red hearts, the one where he is staring at Malfoy. He realises if he had never hidden the photo, then he might have been able to pass it off as a meaningless glance, but now it is anything but.

Malfoy’s eyebrows are tightly wrapped around his eyes as he stares at the photo. “Why didn’t you want me to see this?” He asks slowly without looking up.

Harry’s face is already heating up. There’s no way he can bullshit his way through this, but he is sure as hell going to try. “I told you, it’s a bad angle.”

“Why were you looking at me?”

“I wasn’t.” Merlin. That is the worst lie he could have said. The evidence is right there in Malfoy’s hands. His face is bright red now, even more evidence. He hopes Malfoy doesn’t look up.

Malfoy looks up. “Potter.” He says impatiently but gently, so gently. Couldn’t he always say his name like that? It almost makes Harry want to come clean. _Almost_.

Harry squirms. Malfoy is staring at him and he knows he is caught in a terrible lie. He fiddles with his glasses nervously. “It was nothing. I just got distracted for a while.”

“ _Distracted_.” Malfoy repeats with a smirk. He knows, he knows, he knows. His eyes fall back down to the photo. “Can I keep this one?”

Harry is shocked. He wasn’t expecting that. Is Malfoy making fun of him? “Why do you want to keep it?” He asks, suspiciously.

Malfoy looks back up to Harry, his smirk wider than Harry’s ever seen it. “It’s a good angle for me.”

Harry can tell Malfoy is teasing him, but he isn’t sure exactly what it means. He laughs nervously but he can’t bring himself to smile.

Malfoy’s smirk suddenly drops and he sighs. “Potter, did you even look at the other photos?” He asks, sounding annoyed.

Harry is confused. Did he look like that in all the photos? Had Malfoy already seen? He watches nervously as Malfoy pulls the rest of the photo strip from his pocket and places it in his hand.

Harry looks down at the first photo under the tear. He is relieved to find himself staring directly at the camera with a determined expression. It takes him a moment to notice that the Malfoy in the image isn’t staring at the camera at all. No, he is staring at the Harry in the photo with a frown. He looks at the next image. Malfoy is still staring at him, but the frown is replaced by an unreadable expression. His heart beginning to beat faster, Harry looks at the final image. Malfoy is staring at Harry in this one too, and he’s smiling. Draco Malfoy is smiling at Harry Potter. It’s a small genuine looking smile that Harry has never seen on Malfoy’s face before, it almost seems like he’s witnessing something very private. It’s absolutely beautiful.

Managing to tear his eyes away from the image, Harry looks up to the real Malfoy who is watching him too, but he isn’t smiling. He looks panicked and uncertain, vulnerable even, a huge contrast to the smirking man who stood before him only seconds earlier. Harry isn’t sure what he is supposed to do next. Falling for your ex-arch nemesis, and finding out they might also be falling for you too isn’t really covered in DADA class. Harry can’t think of anything original with this many thoughts flying about in his head so he repeat’s Malfoy’s earlier words.

“Why were you looking at me?”

“I got _distracted_.” Says Malfoy repeating Harry’s words back at him.

Harry still isn’t sure what to do next, so he keeps it safe, borrowing words from Malfoy once again. “Can I keep these?”

Malfoy continues to play along. “Why do you want to keep them?”

This is it. He can keep playing the game, repeating earlier meaningless words, or he can take a leap. “Because you’re beautiful when you smile like that.” He says all in a rush.

Malfoy’s smirk returns. “And you’re sure it doesn’t have anything to do with the fact I’m smiling at you? I’m sure your enormous ego gets a kick out of that.”

Harry freezes. Is Malfoy insulting him? He’s just told the bastard he thinks he’s beautiful, which is no mean feat, and Malfoy is still there, insulting him. He doesn’t know what to think. Had he misjudged the situation? He was sure after seeing those photos that Malfoy felt something for him to, but was he just seeing what he wanted to see? The silence stretches on between them, the sound of heavy rain filling the space.

Finally Malfoy speaks again. “Merlin Potter, I thought you were brave. What more do I need to do? I've been flirting with you all day.”

The world spins for a moment. Flirting? So Malfoy does feel something? He thinks back over the day they’ve spent together but cannot recall anything particularly flirty. “That was you flirting? You were acting exactly the same as in school.”

Malfoy laughs and Harry feels like he has missed the joke. “Yeah, that's kind of the point.” Malfoy says with another _you’re an idiot_ face.

“Oh.” Malfoy thinks he was flirting with him at Hogwarts? Harry wonders if Malfoy even knows the definition of the word. “You know, most people respond to compliments better than insults.”

“Not you.”

Harry blinks. What does Malfoy mean by that? “Have you even tried complimenting me?”

Malfoy’s face scrunches up in distaste. “What is there to compliment?”

Harry stares at Malfoy in disbelief. How can he stand there and claim he has been flirting with Harry, like he fancies him or something, and then come out with that? He isn’t even sure of Malfoy’s feelings anymore. “You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.” Harry says, because his brain is too fried to find anything original to say.

Malfoy shakes his head at that and Harry realises the muggle saying is probably wasted on a pureblood wizard. “I don’t want to catch flies. I want _you_.”

This throws Harry again. So Malfoy _does_ fancy him? Harry isn’t sure how much longer his head can keep up with this. Hearing Malfoy say he wants him is incredible, but dangerous. With the amount of flip-flopping Malfoy is doing, the words could be taken back in an instant. Still, he wants to believe it. “I guess that’s sort of a compliment.” Harry reasons, desperately trying to hold onto it.

“What do you want me to say? That I think you’re wonderful?” Malfoy asks.

“That would be a – “

“Because that’s not true. I think you’re an idiot. You’re reckless, naïve and childish. You’re noble to the point of stupidity. You’re quick to anger and can’t seem to control your impulses. You have innate powerful magic but you waste it by relying on talent alone. On top of that, you don’t seem to be able to clean up after yourself because you live in squalor, and you own the ugliest vase I have ever seen.” Malfoy’s voice is cold and harsh in Harry’s ears.

Harry can’t believe it. He can’t believe he thought that Draco Malfoy had changed, can’t believe he was starting to fall for someone so cruel and heartless. He can’t even spare a thought for the way his own heart is breaking because all he wants is to make Malfoy hurt too, for him to have a taste of his own cruelty.

“At least I don’t act like a cold, cruel bastard to disguise any sign of my humanity.” Harry says hoping to hit Malfoy where it hurts most.

Malfoy only looks surprised. “Are you angry?” He asks.

Harry can’t understand Malfoy right now. Of course he’s angry. How could he not be? “You did say I was quick to anger so I guess you’re right. Congratulations Malfoy.”

“I know I’m right. Don’t you get it?” Malfoy yells at Harry who is starting to get the feeling he is missing something very important. “I think all this, I tell myself I hate you with every fibre of my being, that Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter are enemies, but I don’t _feel_ it. I can’t feel any hate towards you…” Malfoy pauses and he takes a breath. His voice is softer when he continues, “…not when I am so very much in love with you.”

Harry tries to process Malfoy’s words fully but they just keep repeating in his head, not allowing him to absorb them. His anger is forgotten but his body still has use for the adrenaline coursing through him. Malfoy is in love with him. That’s not something words can easily take back. Still Malfoy hasn’t exactly been upfront in his approach.

“That’s a strange way of telling me that.” Harry says when he finally regains his voice.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Malfoy says in a small quiet voice. “There’s something wrong with me. I’ve known it since fourth year. You’re not supposed to fall in love with someone you’re told to want dead. You’re not supposed to fall in love with someone you know hates you. You’re not supposed to fall in love with someone because they’re everything you’re not, because they’re everything you wish you could be. You’re not supposed to hurt someone you love to try and convince yourself it’s not real. It’s twisted. Especially when that person only ever does good, when that person saves your life more than once, when that person, despite everything you’ve done to them, still thinks you’re worth saving. It’s not right. I’m not right.” Malfoy’s voice breaks and he turns away from Harry, but not before Harry sees the tears in his eyes.

“Are you - ?”

“No, it’s just dusty in here.” Malfoy says quickly, his hands at his face.

“Draco – “ Harry starts, trying out Malfoy’s first name. It feels weird on his tongue.

Malfoy scoffs. “You don’t have to tiptoe around me and use my first name now. I’m not any more fragile than I was five minutes ago.” He says, cutting Harry off.

“Alright, prat then.” Harry concedes. He is blessed with a small laugh coming from Malfoy’s back. “Would you like to do this again? It’s the last day for the Fair but I’m sure there’s plenty to do in muggle London.”

There is a pause before Malfoy replies. “Still think I need more sympathy for muggles?” He asks, and Harry knows it isn’t the question he wants to ask.

Harry is happy to clarify, although still a little embarrassed. Even understanding Malfoy’s feelings now, he still can’t help but feel a little shy himself. “No, it’s just about me spending time with you.”

Malfoy turns around quickly. His eyes are all dried up, but there’s no hiding the tell-tale redness. “So it’s a date?” He asks, the Malfoy smirk returning.

Harry wants to punch the jerk in the face and pull him in for a kiss all at the same time. The intensity of his desire, for at least the kiss part, surprises him.

“If that doesn’t offend your sensibilities too much…” Harry replies staring at Malfoy’s lips.

“Shove it, Potter. I’d love to.” Malfoy’s lips say with the hint of a smile.

Harry has been staring for far too long. He quickly averts his gaze and begins to back out of the room. He needs to leave now or he’s going to do something stupid like kiss Malfoy. “Right. So same time next week? Should I come here or do you – “

“That’s it?” Interrupts Malfoy, his eyebrows raised.

“What?” Harry asks, still backing away.

Malfoy shakes his head at Harry like he is an idiot. “I’ve just confessed my feelings for you and you’re still the shy one? I saw you looking at my lips.”

“I wasn’t. I mean…you were talking so…” Harry tries to cover up but there’s no way he will be able to justify the intensity in which he was staring at Malfoy’s lips.

“If you want to kiss me, please kiss me, Potter. I don’t want to wait another week.”

Oh. Yes, Harry wants to, he really wants to. But he can’t help but hesitate. It’s not like he hasn’t kissed anyone before. But he hasn’t kissed someone he actually likes in a long time, not since Ginny. Kissing someone you don’t like is easy, it’s fun and safe. It doesn’t matter if you’re not any good. Kissing someone you like is completely different, like walking on hot coals. And he really likes Malfoy.

He stares back at Malfoy’s lips. Merlin, they’re gorgeous. “Are you sure you – “

“I’ve been fantasising about this my entire teenage life, will you please stop looking at me like that if you’re not going to kiss me?”

Harry stares at Draco Malfoy, his once sworn enemy, basically begging Harry to kiss him, and he feels hot all over. Before spending this ridiculous day with Malfoy, he couldn’t have imagined wanting someone so innocently. Yes, he definitely wants to explore below the belt, but he also wants to kiss Malfoy gently on every inch of his face, wants to hold him in his arms, wants to hear him moan so loud that it…okay maybe not so innocently then.

Harry walks over to Malfoy and places a hand on Malfoy’s shoulder to steady himself. Malfoy raises an eyebrow at that but doesn’t comment. Harry takes one last look at those gorgeous pink lips before leaning in and finally giving Malfoy that kiss, the one that sends sparks through your body, the one that feels like fire and ice at the same time, the one that makes you think of every silly cliché you’ve ever read and makes you finally understand they’re not so silly after all. But it’s just a kiss. Just one kiss. And it won’t be the last.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you do not enjoy reading smut, then this is the natural end of the story and you can go about your usual day. If you do enjoy reading smut, well then it's your lucky day because there is a part two to this... [Dangerously Boiling Explicit Hot Tea (5k)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10293503)
> 
> Hit me up on [tumblr](http://queenofthyme.tumblr.com/) for more drabbles and things or check out my other works on ao3 <3  
>   
> More like this:  
> [How to Apologise to Harry Potter in 10 Days (18k)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8468365e)  
> [I Hex You, You Hex Me (4k)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8533750)  
> 


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